


blind affection

by Emmar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Character, M/M, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmar/pseuds/Emmar
Summary: Prompto screws his courage to the sticking place - much to Ignis' surprise.
(Contains SPOILERS for Chapter 10.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Chapter 10, when you're looking for the tomb in the mine. The one w the malboro, u kno the one i mean. (Sidenote: Fuck that battle.)
> 
> first: i apologise for the punny title. it was bad and i feel bad. (this is a lie.)
> 
> second: this exists bc a friend of mine mentioned that prompto sure did take a lot of photos of ignis in her game... maybe he has a crush?? so i wrote A Thing.
> 
> third: i finished the game today and had Feelings about My Boys. more fic is probably forthcoming. (the ot4. it calls to me.)

There had better be a damned Royal Tomb in this place to make up for this, Ignis thinks, dabbing potion-soaked cloth against his poor, battered knees in the gentle warmth of Plantagh Haven. He’s starting to regret agreeing to come along - he’s nothing but a burden here, a millstone around their necks. Besides which, if he’d stayed at the station he wouldn’t have to listen to Gladio and His Highness passive-agressively snipe at each other for quite as long.

There’s a scuffing of feet against stone, and then the heat of another body beside him, and Prompto says, “Hey. Sorry about dinner.”

Ignis huffs something that’s almost a laugh as he rolls his trouser leg back down. Cold food from a tin isn’t exactly haute cuisine, after all.

“I don’t imagine I could have trusted any of you to even try and heat it up without doing yourselves a mischief,” is all he says, and Prompto laughs quietly and knocks their shoulders together, companionable and reflexive, and Ignis lets himself soak up that warmth a moment before he straightens up.

“Hey,” Prompto says, some indeterminate time later, “are you, uh. You doing okay? With the other two, I mean, they’ve been— well. They’re kind of being pains in the ass, huh?”  
“Dear, sweet Prompto,” Ignis says, reaching out a hand and settling it on Prompto’s cheek, thumb along the curve of his cheekbone. “You oughtn’t worry about me so.”  
“Well,” Prompto says, and Ignis can feel the heat of his blush. He’s never been one for casual contact, not truly, but now it has a certain appeal, he finds. Still, his comfort isn’t the only important factor, and he moves to pull his hand back, only to have Prompto curl one of his own around Ignis’ wrist. “No, it’s okay. I, uh. Kinda like it?”  
“Ah,” Ignis says, utterly at sea.  
“Hey, can I, uh, that is, I was wondering, um—”  
“Take your time.”  
“Right,” Prompto breathes, and Ignis can hear him take a long breath in and then huff it out again. “Can I— kiss you?”

The silence stretches for a beat too long, and Prompto obviously takes it as rejection, because Ignis has to hastily curl a hand in his collar to keep him from pulling away.

“I was startled, is all,” he says, and wishes like he never has before that he could see right now. “May I ask why?”  
“I, uh. Kind of, maybe have a teeny, tiny crush on you? Kinda?”  
“Oh,” says Ignis, because of all the things he was expecting - pity being at the top of the list - that isn’t one of them. “Yes,” he says then.  
“Huh?”  
“Yes, you may kiss me, Prompto.”  
“Oh! Yeah, okay, cool, thanks,” Prompto rambles, and he draws Ignis’ hand away from his face only to tangle their fingers together, his other hand coming to rest on Ignis’ cheek. “Can I, uh, is it okay to touch the scar? I mean, I don’t wanna if it hurts or anything, obviously, I just—”  
“It’s fine,” Ignis assures him, and Prompto lets out a breath and then moves his hand, ever so gently, fingers brushing past Ignis’ hairline and his thumb ghosting over the edge of the starburst scar on his right temple. “Oh,” he manages, and regrets it immediately when Prompto stills. “No,” he says hurriedly, “no pain, carry on,” because there isn’t - but he’d been utterly unprepared for the contrast of the numb scar tissue and the oversensitivity of healthy skin. And then there’s little time to dwell, because Prompto’s lips are pressing against his, tentative and feather-light, and Ignis presses forward instinctively. It’s been quite some time since he’s been kissed, and perhaps it’s a combination of time and his blindness making touch seem so much _more_ , but this is one of the nicest. Prompto smells, under the scent of the harsh travel soap they use, ever so faintly of apples, and his hair is soft under Ignis’ palm.

“Wow,” Prompto says an eternity later, pulling away only far enough to speak - Ignis can still feel his lips moving. “That was, uh. Yeah. Teenage fantasy totally confirmed and fulfilled.”  
“Glad I lived up to your expectations,” Ignis replies, wry, and closes the distance between them again to bestow another chaste kiss on the younger man’s lips. “You may want to smooth your hair down before you leave the tent - I’ve no doubt we both look rather thoroughly kissed right now.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Prompto says, “Nah. Let ‘em see. I don’t care. But— I mean, if you don’t want Gladio or Noct realising—”  
“Let them draw whatever conclusions they will,” Ignis says, squeezing Prompto’s hand gently. “Neither of us have anything to be ashamed of.”  
“Yeah. Okay. And, uh, hey, if they’re gossiping about us at least they won’t be fighting any more?”  
“I think you underestimate their bullheadedness.”  
“…True. Okay, yeah, I’m gonna. Go. Uh, sleep well?”  
“And you. Good night, Prompto.”


End file.
